School Days Read online

  The Richard Jackson Saga

  Book 2: School Days

  By Ed Nelson

  This is dedicated to my wife Carol for her support and help as first reader and editor.

  Also the BHS class of 1962 just because.

  “That is exactly how it happened, give or take a lie or two.”

  James Garner as Wyatt Earp describing the gun fight at the OK Corral in the movie Sunset.

  Contents

  The Richard Jackson Saga

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Copyright August 2019 by E. E. Nelson

  Eastern Shore Publishing

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Monday the weather was still good. I was able to get in another run, there wouldn’t be many more. I took one of my favorite routes, up Campbell Hill, then along a farm road next to the airbase. Then turn onto a road through a small woodlot to complete the loop and home. It was a little longer than my normal five miles, but I liked running out in the country.

  During breakfast I had a cup of coffee even though I was awake. It wasn’t as nasty tasting, I was getting used to it. I talked Dad into giving me a ride to school. I had made an error in bringing the trophy home with me, rather than letting Coach take it with him. After giving me a hard time, Dad relented.

  On the way to school I wondered what they were going to do with the latest trophy. The current cases looked full to me, and I could tell the trophy was too tall to fit in any of the cases. The question was quickly answered.

  Dad dropped me off at the main entrance as usual. When I walked in the door the first thing that caught my eye was an additional trophy case. It was built to hold taller trophies.

  A janitor was just finishing cleaning the glass. I asked Mr. Brown where they got a new case on such short notice. He told me that they had it all along, just not set out. When they bought the other cases this came with them. They didn’t have enough trophies to fill it, so they left it in storage to avoid damage, you know those dang high school kids. Mr. Brown was one of those that thought his job would be great, if it wasn’t for all those kids.

  He had the key, so he opened it and placed the trophy front and center. All the time other students were going by saying, “Go Bellefontaine.”

  I had learned to tune it out.

  Mr. Brown then told me, “Mr. Gordon needs to see you in the office right away.”

  “Thanks, I better head there,” I replied, as I wondered what it was about.

  Mr. Gordon saw me immediately.

  “Congratulations on the win, Rick. You have caused more commotion at this school than we have had in years. I always want the city and county council’s to pay attention to us, and maybe provide some of the funds we need for maintenance. Now they all want to be here and speak at the presentation.”

  “What presentation?”

  “Your trophy of course,” he spoke as though I were a little slow.

  “I was presented my trophy at the end of the tournament yesterday, Jack Nicklaus did the presentation.”

  “Not that one, the Logan county athlete of the year”

  “I didn’t know they had one.”

  “This is the first, somebody thought of it last night,” Mr. Gordon told me.

  “Do I have to accept it?” I inquired.

  “No, but you wouldn’t make any friends, I heard your Dad was going into business for himself, just think what that would do for his community relations.”

  “When is the presentation?”

  “It’s this Friday afternoon as part of the regular pep rally. I’m just thankful they aren’t insisting on earlier, anymore classes missed and we will be cutting into the snow day reserves.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “One more thing Rick, could we put your bull riding trophy in the new case? I haven’t seen it but I gather it is impressive.”

  “Mum will be glad to give it to the school. I have been using it as a clothes rack in my bedroom.”

  “What about you Rick, do you mind giving it up?” he asked.

  “Thank you for asking, no I don’t mind.”

  “Bring it tomorrow if you can.”

  “I will, you know I just wanted to play golf, not be the school hero.”

  “A burden you will have to bear, we need our heroes, and I would rather have a clean cut athlete rather than one of those rock and roll singers.”

  I took that as a sign he didn’t want my gold record for “Rock and Roll Cowboy,’ for the trophy case. But it did give me an idea. They would get their hero warts and all. Mr. Gordon then gave me a note and sent me to my home room.

  I ended up on time, so didn’t need the note. I did notice there wasn’t a date and it only said, Rick Jackson is excused for this lateness. I saved the note in my three-ring binder. Waste not, want not.

  As part of the morning ritual my home room teacher publicly congratulated me. This occurred in every class all day, even study hall. Though I wasn’t the highlight of study hall, that dubious honor was reserved for Steve Simmons.

  Steve was a little guy, but tough as nails. He came from a less than desirable background, but made it to school in worn out clothes every day. You could tell he was trying.

  Well poor Steve fell asleep in study hall. I don’t mean nodded off, I mean a deep sleep with his head on the desk. He may have got away with it, but he started snoring. Mr. Hurley couldn’t ignore that. What he did was wave his arms to get our attention; then held up his finger to his lips in the sign of keep quiet.

  He then pointed at Steve. It was only a minute until the bell, so we all packed up our papers and books and just sat there. The bell rang and Mr. Hurley using hand signs; had us file quietly out of the room for our next class.

  Some of us had to know what was going to happen next so we stayed behind, watching through the glass window in the door. Mr. Hurley picked up a book and slammed it down on the desk behind Steve.

  Steve woke up, obviously startled and jumped up. His desk was in the row on the far side of the room from the door. Instead of going around the rows of desks, the old style with the seat attached to
the front of the desk behind it, he stood on a desk top and ran across the room from desk top to desk top.

  You should have seen the look on Mr. Hurley’s face. I don’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that. Steve burst out of that room, pushing his way passed us. Mr. Hurley broke down laughing.

  Now that was a sight to see. He was a very serious looking person and seldom cracked a smile and I had never seen him laugh before. That was kind of weird.

  Mr. Hurley came out the door and said in passing.

  “If anyone sees Steve tell him he just paid off all his detention debt for the year.”

  Now that was a reward! Detention was for one hour after school every day. As we were leaving for the day you would see the kids gathering in the study hall to serve their time. Steve was one of those guys always there.

  Chapter 2

  At lunch time I ran into TomHumphreys and his crowd.

  “Guess you think you are big guy at school now, hot shot.”

  I replied, “Hi Rodney, I’m glad to see you are your usual wonderful self, the Tomwe all admire.”

  You could tell that he didn’t know how to take that.

  “I just don’t want you to get a swelled head, it’s not like you play a real sport.”

  “Thank you Rodney, I appreciate the advice and I will take it in the spirit it was given.”

  Again he looked a little disconcerted. I continued, “See you later; I’ve got to get in line for my lunch.”

  I wasn’t going to get in a fight if I could avoid it, but I was getting tired of his crap.

  I joined Tom at our regular table. Today the entire golf team was there to congratulate me. It was actually nice to get compliments from guys who could appreciate what I had done.

  John Scott surprised me by saying, “I would flunk out this year if I could play on the team next year, but I will be nineteen before the season is over, so I will go ahead and graduate.”

  Boy talk about pressure for next year. We then tried to figure out who would replace John. There were a couple of eighth graders who played out at the club who did pretty well. This year the school had an unusual shortage of golfers, it was probably the only reason I was given a chance.

  Rita Harrison was sitting at a table with her friends and wasn’t looking my way so maybe that was over, I sure hope so. I’m like any guy, I like the attention of an attractive girl, but I think she was attracted to the money and not me.

  The next study hall I took the time to write a letter to Judy telling her of the events since Sunday night. I thought the Steve Simmons thing was really funny but maybe you had to be there to appreciate it.

  I whined a little about the upcoming pep rally. I truly didn’t care for being the center of attention; little good seemed to come of it. New people attracted by my fame weren’t attracted because they liked me; it was what I could do for them. I wondered how John Wayne and Elvis handled this. I would ask Mr. Wayne the next time I saw him.

  After school I went straight home. Dad grabbed me right away. We have to get you down to Henry’s for a new suit.

  “Why,” I asked.

  “The pep rally they are holding Friday is a lot bigger than the normal rally. It is being held at the Holland Theater for some reason. I was called by both the Mayor and President of the County Council. They want you to look good for the presentations.”

  “Presentations,” I inquired, “Mr. Gordon told me of one more trophy as Athlete of the Year for Logan County.”

  “I think that may have changed a little, I’m not sure, anyway let’s get down to Wolfeins to have you fitted.”

  Henry did his normal good job of fitting me. The only problem was Dad and I arguing about what fabric I should pick for the suit. Both were off the rack. One was dark blue with thin red pinstripes it even had a vest with it, the other dark blue with wide white stripes.

  The wide white stripes made me think of a Chicago gangster. I didn’t want to look like Al Capone. My point, that I was the one who had to wear the suit won the day. As I told Dad, if he liked the suit he should buy it for himself.

  He got a faraway look; then shook his head, “Peg would never go for it.”

  And he wanted me to wear it!

  A new tie, white shirt which needed cuff links, a set of cuff links, new black socks, black belt and I was good to go. Henry was a good salesman. I barely was able to get off without a set of braces; and a gold watch with a chain to hang across the front of my vest.

  We just got home and the telephone rang. Mum picked it up and said, “Jackson residence.”

  She listened a moment and handed the handset to me, “It’s the White House for you.”

  I have a funny Mum.

  I said, “Hello who is this?”

  The response was, “Hold for the President”

  Wow they had really gone all out on this joke.

  It wasn’t a joke, the next voice I heard, I knew from television.

  “Rick this is Dwight Eisenhower, I wanted to call and congratulate you on your winning the Ohio State Golf Championship for Boys. I’ve had your name put on my press clipping list, if you make the news I am notified”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” I managed to get out.

  “I’ve a trip to Columbus scheduled in April. It is with local business leaders, there will be a round of golf involved; you’re invited to play with me. I could use a strong partner.”

  “It will be my pleasure, Mr. President.”

  “My office will be in contact to confirm the details, say hello to your parents, and tell your Dad I had to break that strike to save the economy.”

  He hung up, I was still in shock. How did he know how Dad felt about him?

  I related the conversation to my parents who were waiting by the phone.

  Dad told me, “That explains a few things, I didn’t want to get Peg upset but several people at work told me the FBI had been asking questions, of course everyone wanted to know what I had done. It was right after you got a birthday greeting from Ike so I figured that was what it was about.”

  “He does have to be careful who he is associated with. I told people I was being considered for a job on the railroad commission, it was worth a laugh.”

  Mum spoke up, “The neighbors told me they had been approached but I didn’t share because I didn’t want to upset Jack. I also sorted out that it must be Ike protecting himself.”

  We had a good laugh, it reminded me of a story I had read. It was about a very poor young couple buying each other Christmas presents.

  I told Dad about Ike’s remarks on saving the economy. He gave a, “Harrumph.”

  That was mild for him on that subject. Having the President personally explain why he did something had an effect on Dad. I bet it wouldn’t last.

  After dinner I walked over to the Wingers house and asked to speak with Mrs. Hernandez. She was a striking lady with the darkest black hair I had ever seen. I just thought my hair was black! Mum called my hair, black Irish. Her hair was so black it appeared to have purple highlights. Mums hair was that way under some light. This woman’s was that dark under any light.

  She had very large breasts and wore a bra that we called, ‘Nose Cones.’ They looked like the nose cone on a guided missile. She was way too old for me, but I could still appreciate the view.

  I explained who I was, and that I would like to see about Spanish lessons. We talked until she established I was serious. We agreed on five lessons a week, one hour per day. I would pay her a flat seven dollars and fifty cents a week in advance, and there would be no refund if I missed class.

  During our conversation she realized I was Mary’s big brother. She told me she had wanted to meet Mary’s hero. I was the bestest big brother ever.

  She told me, “If you pick up Spanish as quick as Mary, you will be a conversationalist in weeks.”

  I told her that I would be gone for seven weeks in the spring, but that if she would provide study materials I would keep paying her. She thought this fair
and would put together a packet for me. In the meantime my lessons would start next Monday. I paid her in cash so we were all set to go.

  I went home and joined the family in watching Father Knows Best, The Danny Thomas Show followed by the Ann Southern Show.

  Later I read a story about a guy who makes a bet that he can go around the world quickly. It was humorous as all get out, in an understated way. Each of the adventures was believable within its self but putting them all together was way over the top. Since it is a classic people must like this sort of stuff, I’m still not sure.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning I lugged the bull riding trophy to school. Dad said he was too busy to drop me off. He just wanted me to carry that darned thing around. If he was polite he would have waited till I was far enough away that I couldn’t hear his laughter.

  Of course I was stopped at the school doorway by all the kids wanting to see it. I thought about setting it down and leaving it. It was like that Phil Harris song, The Thing, if I put it down it would come right back to me.

  Anyway I got lucky, Mr. Brown the janitor was right there, taking it and locking it away next to my golf trophy. I slunk into my homeroom, just wanting to be another kid in the crowd. I thought it was working until Mr. Gordon made the morning announcements including.

  “On Friday after the lunch period all classes will walk as a group downtown to the Holland Theater where there will be a pep rally and a tribute to our most famous student, Ricky Jackson.”

  Of course everyone in the room turned and looked at me.

  Sally Bronson sitting next to me commented, “Rick, I never knew anyone could blush that dark of a red, it really goes well with your blue eyes.”

  It would have helped if she hadn’t gone off in peals of laughter. It must be my day to be laughed at.

  Classes went as classes always do; I kept working in all of them, to keep ahead, but as much to avoid how uncomfortable I felt with being the center of attention.

  At lunch something else hit home, previously the table I sat at was occupied by the golf team and Tom. Since the season ended the team had moved on, to what I thought must be their regular friends.